Caught In a Moment
by panic-on-the-typewriter
Summary: Nikki Alwyn is sixteen year old girl that has had a tough life. To make things even worse, she is reaped in The Seventy-First Annual Hunger Games. Will her Mentor, Finnick Odair be able to help her through this insanely difficult time in her life, or will she absolutely lose it and break under the pressure? Finnick and OC pairing. My first Fanfic! Reviews are welcomed.
1. AUTHORS NOTE

**THIS IS NOT A NEW CHAPTER**

Hello everyone! I am here to make an announcement. I am in the process of re-writing this story. I just feel as if this story was a bit rushed, and to be perfectly honest, my writing skills have improved. I want to put all I can into all my work on here, so I will be making this story more detailed, and really refine it. Nikki and Finnick fell in love too quickly, and the time she was in the arena was very speedy, and she didn't really have to do much. Paul and Henry sort of just took care of everything for her. I want to dive deeper into my characters, and make them more realistic, so good news! You get more of this story


	2. Chapter 1 REVISED

**A/N: Hello everyone! Here is chapter one of the REVISED VERSION OF CIAM! I'm so blown away at how many views this story has gotten! 8 THOUSAND VIEWS! I just want to thank everyone for reading and favoring. I promise you'll enjoy this version way better than the last one. I hope.. Anyway as always, enjoy and review! Tell me what you think! I want to make this story as interesting and amazing as it can! Have a good day or night!**

 **Chapter I**

I crack my eyes open, the bright sun blinding me as it pours through the small window of my tiny bedroom. I wish I could pretend today is not happening. I wish I could pretend today is not Reaping Day. Unfortunately I can't. I have to get started on my chores right away, preparing for the fact that my name may be picked; leaving my dad all alone to fend for himself. It would be easier on me if my twin sister wasn't dead, and my mom hadn't left. You know what they say- _C'est la vie._

I drag myself out of bed, walking over to my small mirror nailed into the stark white wall. My bedroom isn't much, just a bed, dresser, and small chair in the corner. I don't mind it though, it's my sanctuary. I get to hide in here while my dad is drunk off his bum. Usually he gets really angry and violent. He's never hit me or anything, just yells and throws things. Ever since my sister died and my mother left, he's been like that.

Taking in my appearance, I become disappointed. I don't consider myself pretty. My sun-lightened brown hair is in tangles, my emerald green eyes are bloodshot, and accessorized with deep purple bruises under them. Thanks insomnia, for all you do for me.

I need to hurry up and start fishing for the day, I remind myself. Even though Four is one of the career districts, and being wealthy is the norm- my father wastes all of our money on booze. There were days where we couldn't eat, so I took up the skill of catching shellfish, and fish. This is also illegal, unless you have a license-which I don't.

My eyes flicker to the picture of my sister and I. We're twins, however, my sister had my mother's blonde hair, and blue eyes. She was so beautiful, her cheerful attitude and her bell-like laugh made her so much prettier than just her delicate looks. This picture was taken the day she died. I will never forget that night.

" _Come on Nikki, it'll be fun. The storm isn't even that bad, we'll be fine." Sara whispered. A bolt of lightning struck outside, illuminating my room. I could see the excitement, and adventure in my sister's eyes._

" _Shell, it's too dangerous!" I warn her, pushing myself up in bed. I take another wary glance out of the window, watching the waves violently crash against the sharp rocks._

" _Uggh! You never want to do anything fun or daring!" She cries, throwing her arms up in frustration. I know full well that if I don't say yes, she'll go by herself. If anything were to happen it would be better for us to be together versus her having no one._

" _Fine." I grumble. I swing my legs over, and land on the cold hardwood floor. We walk sneakily through the dark house, being careful not to wake up our parents._

 _We finally make it outside safely, and my eyes zero in on the small boat tied to our dock. The palm trees are shaking frantically, and the side of the boat is knocking against the side of the wooden dock. The heavy rain immediately soaks our thin clothes, chilling us to the bone._

 _Sara hops into the boat swiftly. She extends her hand out to me, but I hesitate. I have a very bad feeling about this._

" _Are you coming or not? How will you ever be considered cool if you don't put yourself out there and take risks?" She questions me, raising an eyebrow._

" _Sara, I think there's a difference between wearing a shorter length of skirt and asking out your crush than going on a suicide mission in the middle of a storm!" I whisper-yell at her. She rolls her eyes, and pulls me in anyway. Well, I guess that decision was easy._

" _If anything happens, I'll let you rub in my face how you told me so." She smiles, untying us from the dock._

" _If I even get the chance to." I mutter. I watch as our house drifts farther and farther away as we sail out to sea._

" _Where are we even going?" I ask her, turning around on my seat._

" _On an adventure! Lighten up already! You're sucking the energy out of me." She exclaims, standing on the bow._

" _Just get off the edge, would you?" I scold her. The storm strangely seems to be getting worse. The rain pelts my face, blurring my vision. The lightning flashes closer and closer to us, which seems impossible._

" _Nikki!" Sara screams. My head swivels around just in time to see her figure fly off the boat._

" _Sara!" I scream for her. I jump up from spot on the boat, and begin digging around frantically for life preservers. My hand comes across them, but it's too late. I lean over the edge and watch as bubbles rise to the surface of the black water. The color in my face drains, and my heartbeat picks up. She's nowhere to be seen._

 _I know the only thing I can do is try to save her. I slide on the life preserver and dive into the water. I feel as though I have been burned when the ice-cold water comes into contact with my skin. It freezes me right down to the bone. I swim quickly, looking for any sign of Sara, but I all I see is black._

Snapping back into reality, I tear my eyes away from the picture, focusing on getting ready. I decide a bath may help with my nerves.

After I'm clean, I walk into my room, quickly pulling on my denim shorts, and white tank top. Sliding on my brown sandals and running a brush through my hair, I stomp out the door.

Just as I'm almost halfway to town, Sam stops me. I roll my eyes, and cross my arms over my chest. Sam has had a crush on me since forever. Let's just say the arrogant, self-centered jerks aren't my type.

"What do you want, Sam?" I ask impatiently.

"Today's Reaping Day…" He smiles, running a hand through his wavy blonde hair.

"Wait, seriously? I must have forgotten, I mean the paralyzing fear and the sense of impending doom has escaped me completely." I reply sarcastically, smacking my hand against my forehead.

"Whatever Alwyn, you can hide behind this tough exterior all you want." He scoffs, walking away. I eye him suspiciously before continuing on my lovely journey. I've never had a boyfriend, and I don't think I want one either. Everyone around here is so self-centered, and shallow.


	3. Chapter 2 REVISED

**A/N: Here's chapter two! I decided to change their ages, I hope no one minds. And Paul is hot now. So there's that. Also Nikki's dad is a bigger jerk than before. How glorious. Anyways, enjoy, and review!**

 **Chapter II**

After filling my bucket with a satisfactory amount of fish and shellfish, I make my way home. I take the long route through the tall palm trees and high grass so I can conceal my bucket of illegal substance easier. Peacekeepers here are so damn strict. They don't care about anything other than pleasing Snow. It makes me sick how we're all his robots.

When I reach home, I spot my dad stumbling around the living room, muttering about how people deceive you. I place the tin bucket on the spotless counter in the kitchen and cautiously step into the living room.

He whirls around, his eyes burning with anger. The stench of alcohol and stale sweat permeate my nostrils, making me gag involuntarily.

"Listen kid," He points a dirt smudged finger at me. "I know today is Reaping Day…So if you get picked…Just know it's a miracle. I won't have to look at the monster who killed my daughter and drove my wife away anymore." He yells, stumbling towards me. His green eyes framed by wrinkles close tightly, and grabs his stomach. Before I can do anything, he turns his head, and hurls. Just marvelous.

"Dad, go wash up and don't make a fool of yourself in front of the whole district. We leave in twenty minutes." I say coldly and sternly. He grumbles, wiping his mouth with the bottom of his stained shirt.

"There, all clean." He snaps, pushing me aside so he can probably grab another drink. Rolling my eyes, I run up the stairs, so I can get ready.

Once I'm dressed in one of my mother's sleeveless, white lace dresses that ends right above my knee, I quickly tame my wavy hair in a side fishtail braid. I don't bother with makeup like other girls in town, just simple mascara will do. Making myself look all fancy won't do much since the boys around here hate my independent and sarcastic attitude. Well everyone except Sam.

I quickly run down the stairs, and look for my dad. I find him on the porch, bottle of clear liquor in his hand, and his shoes on the wrong feet. I'm not even going to bother.

I grab his arm harshly, and lead him to the Justice Building in town. The sun beats down on us, warming me from my head to my toes. If I do get reaped, I'm going to miss the sun.

Once I'm checked in, my finger pricked and all, I lead my dad to where everyone not participating stands.

"Stay here. Don't go wandering off, and speak to no one." I scold him. I can only imagine the mortification I would suffer if he made a scene here, especially on this day…Where the whole thing is filmed for all of Panem.

Standing in the girls section, I watch as Raquel Dartingale, our District's escort saunters onto stage. Donned in a tight, bright silver dress that reflects the sun, she taps on the microphone. Her huge, platinum blonde wig bobs with the jerky movements of her head as she announces the event, and plays the video we watch every year.

Batting her bright pink lashes to the crowd, she walks over to the crystal bowl holding all the girls names. Clawing around inside, she picks one white slip that potentially holds my future.

"The female Tribute for this year's Hunger Games is Nikole Alwyn!" She cheers, while my heart drops into my stomach. Did she just say my name? There has to be some mistake…Another Nikole Alwyn or something. I wait patiently for anyone to take my place. No one volunteers, they all just move away from me, gawking.

"About time." Some bubblegum blonde mutters.

Peacekeepers spot me, and roughly push me up towards stage. My heart moves from my stomach to my throat. I don't think I can do this.

"Hello, dear. Why don't you tell us how old you are?" Raquel smiles, tilting the microphone towards me. I can clearly see the thick layer of makeup on her face now that I'm closer to her.

"Seventeen." I say, my voice cracking.

"Lovely. Now, time for the boys." She says, frolicking over to the opposite side of the stage, where the crystal bowl with the boy's names sit.

Choosing another white slip, she walks back to the microphone, and smiles brightly for the crowd.

"Our male tribute this year is Paul Rider!" She sings, extremely way too happy for this occasion.

I look over and see a golden blonde boy who appears to be eighteen, almost ineligible for the Games walk up to the stage. He stands around six feet and looks pretty strong. You can see his muscles through the light blue button-up and khaki pants he's wearing. His jaw is clenched, and his eyebrows are furrowed. He looks angry. That makes the both of us.

"And how old are you?" Raquel questions.

"Eighteen." He says void of any emotion. I was right! His bright green eyes flicker down to mine, and my breath gets caught in my throat. He is quite attractive. Great, of course I would be stuck with an attractive tribute.

We shake hands, and when his hand grips mine in a firm handshake, I gulp. He's really strong. The odds aren't looking like they're in my favor.

I wait in a fancy room, with marble floors, and wide bay windows. It's time to say goodbye to all my loved ones. I roll my eyes. I wouldn't even consider my dad a loved one, and he's the only family I have.

The distinct scent of alcohol fills the room, and I know my dad is in here, how he was that quiet, I will never know. I turn around and see him right in front of me.

"Look at you…All grown up." He places his hand on my cheek. I swat him away, narrowing my eyes at him. Now he wants to play responsible parent? I don't think so.

"You didn't have to come here." I say, my tone icy.

"I want to say that I am disappointed in you. You're such a failure. If anyone was to die that night, it should've been you!" He yells, balling his hands into fists. Well that's a new one. I know how much my dad hates me, but I never expected him to go that far.

"You know what dad? I think you got the roles reversed. I think it should've been you. You're such a waste of life. All you ever do is put me down with your words, making me not want to live my life anymore, when you just waste yours away, drinking. You suck as a dad and I _wish_ I died that night. At least I would be away from you!" I yell back, finally standing up for myself. Suddenly, I feel a hard object crash into me, knocking me down. Dazed, I lift my head and see my dad holding the heavy, golden lamp from one of the tables in his hand. Did he seriously just hit me with a freaking lamp?!

"Don't ever talk to me that way! I hope you die in that arena, because if you come back, you're dead. I will kill you ungrateful, spoiled brat!" He sputters, dropping the lamp on the floor, and exiting the room.

I examine myself, seeing a long, bleeding gash on my shoulder. Now what will people think? I grit my teeth, the anger rising inside me. I hate him. I hope he drinks so much when I'm gone, his liver just shuts down, and he drops dead. It's incredibly hard to believe he wasn't always like this.

The peacekeeper pops his head in and escorts me to the train. Reporters with cameras and microphones swarm the area, trying to yell questions at me and Paul who looks even angrier than before. This definitely won't be a boring trip, that's for sure.


	4. Chapter 3 REVISED

**A/N: Hey everyone! I hope no one minds that I've made some adjustments to these characters. I made Nikki more independent and less of a cry baby. I just feel it makes sense she's sort of detached from all that she's been through with her dad and her sister. But don't worry the old Nikki we all know and love will resurface. Paul will give Finnick a bit more competition. So you can look forward to that. As always, review and favorite! Love you guys so much! You have no idea what all your comments and follows mean to me as a writer. *heart emoji***

 **Chapter III**

I sit on a plush velvet couch, looking around the luxurious train. Crystals hang off the light fixtures, and plates piled high with delicious smelling treats cover the tables. A large screen faces me on the wall, where two arches lead to hallways on either side of the TV.

Paul sits on the couch to my left, his elbows rested on his knees, his hands clasped together. His thick, wavy golden blonde hair falls in his face, covering his eyes. I want to say something, but I'm too afraid so I say nothing.

Our mentor, Finnick Odair hasn't showed up yet, which upsets me. I just want to meet him, get the initial greetings out of the way so I can go to my room and clean up my arm.

"Finnick shall be out soon. He had a…visitor." Raquel tells us, walking through one of the arches.

"Okay. Tell him we'll be _here_." I say sarcastically, waving my arm out, gesturing to the train. She presses her lips into a fine line, walking away.

Paul looks up at me then, staring at my face. I look away, suddenly self-conscious. When he doesn't look away, my eyes snap back to him. I raise my eyebrow, questioning him.

"So…what should we talk about?" He asks, resting back in his seat, crossing his arms.

"I don't know." I respond, shifting in my seat.

"Where did you get that cut?" He asks, his eyes lingering on the red gash on my shoulder.

"I fell on a rock." I said quickly. I mentally scold myself. Really? A rock? That's the best I could do?

"No bruise? You're a bad liar." He smirks, finding this very amusing.

"Let's talk about something else." I say, just as a woman with black hair and blue eyes runs through the room, escaping to the next car over.

"We could talk about that." He says, pointing to where she just traipsed. I smile wide, that was pretty funny.

"How about we not." I hear another voice say. I look up and see Finnick Odair, Panem's most favored Victor stroll in, running a towel through his hair. Are you serious?! We waited out here for almost an hour while he was showering?! I lock my jaw, and glare at him, while he goes to take a seat next to me on the couch. I quickly pull my legs up on the couch, stretching them out so he can't sit. He raises his eyebrows in surprise. He's probably not used to a woman not wanting to sit next to him. Arrogant Jerk.

"Nikole and Paul, right?" He asks, taking a seat on the coffee table instead.

"Nikki." I correct him. He nods, looking me over. Can he not? I glare at him. His eyes shift over to Paul next.

"So what are your strengths? What can you do?" Finnick asks Paul.

"I have no experience with ranged weapons, but I'm a fast learner. My father owns a couple of warehouses so I work there, lifting and lugging around cargo. I can lift about 320 pounds max. I practice when I have time with swords." He informs Finnick. Looking pleased, his sea green eyes rest on me.

"And what can you do, Nikole?" He asks, using my full name on purpose.

"Nikki. And I can fish. I'm fairly good at making fishhooks. Also, I guess I'm pretty skilled with knives." I say, aggravated. I'm nothing compared to Paul. Well, I know who's going to last longer between the two of us.

"Okay. We'll have to work on you a bit more." He tells me, turning back to Paul. They begin talking about fighting strategies, while I sit here. Doing nothing. I groan, and push myself up from the couch, wincing when I move my arm. I look down and see the cut reopened. I don't care if we're not done talking to Finnick, I walk into one of the hallways and pick a room anyway.

I open a door to a charcoal and lime green decorated room. More crystals hang off the walls and lights. I quickly walk to the bathroom on the right wall, and open the door to find water all over the floor, and a bra and feminine underwear hanging up.

Oh, I may have walked into Raquel's room by accident. I turn to leave, and spot Finnick leaning against the doorframe, his cocking his eyebrow.

"Can I help you?" He asks, his mouth spreading into a charming smile.

"I was just looking for my room. I must've accidentally walked into Raquel's." I say, walking to the doorway.

"This is my room." He tells me, blocking my way. I look up at him, and narrow my eyes. Of course this is his room.

"Nice bra, could borrow it sometime?" I say, waiting for him to move. His mouth pops open, surprised I would call him out on his escapades.

"Can I leave now?" I ask, sighing. He moves out of my way, closing the door behind me. Ugh! I'm stuck with him as a Mentor! I'm going to go crazy.

"Which room do you want? It's between these two." Paul asks me, resting against the hallway wall, with the doors of the rooms next to each other wide open.

I peer in the one to the left, and see it's similar to Finnick's but it is white and navy blue. I make my way by Paul and look in the room to the right, and see it is black and white colored.

"I'll take the white and navy room." I tell him. He nods, walking to the room I rejected. He stops before walking in, and looks at me.

"Before I forget, Raquel told me to tell you dinner is in ten, and to clean up your cut." He tells me, his green eyes eyeing me curiously. He looks like he wants to say more, but doesn't.

"Okay. Thanks." I say softly, walking into my new room.

I see there is a large queen sized bed in the center of the wall opposite to the door, a white dresser to my right, with a huge circular mirror hanging over it. Nightstands with plants and crystals in glass vases on top of them adorn the right and left side of the bed with a white comforter laid on it.

I walk to the right, and open the door leading to the bathroom. I see that it is pristine, white, and clean. Also no undergarments are hanging anywhere.

I wad up toilet paper, and drench it in water, wiping the excess blood off my cut. It looks smaller without all the blood smeared everywhere. It's pretty deep, but it doesn't require stitches.

I sigh in aggravation. My dad is something else. I can't believe how screwed up he got. I know that it was my fault Sara died that night, but being reminded me of it nearly every day has made me bitter. Unforgiving of myself, and other people. I don't think I can ever forgive my father for the way he treats me. He actually physically hurt me! He's never done that.

Once my arm is wrapped up, I look at myself in the mirror for the third time today. My hair turned my tidy fishtail braid into a messy one. I pull out the elastic and start over again.

My green eyes look dull and tired. I just want to sleep. I wonder if I can skip dinner, I don't have much of an appetite anyway.

My plan of escaping dinner was soon crushed when Paul knocked on my door, peeking his head in.

"Dinner's ready." He tells me, glancing at my bandaged arm. What is his obsession with my cut?

"Why do you constantly look at my arm?" I ask him, pulling the covers back on the bed.

"I'm just trying to figure out what happened, that's all." He tells me, opening the door wider, standing in the doorway.

"Why does it matter to you? You don't know me." I question him. Soon enough, we'll be in the arena and he's going to have to kill me or vice versa if someone doesn't get to us first.

"I guess you're right. But whether you like it or not, we're in this together. We have no one else." He tells me, walking out. I stare after him in shock. We _are_ in this together, but does he really think we could be friends?

I follow him out to the dinner table near the sitting area. Raquel and Finnick are already sitting down, and eating. Paul takes his seat to the right of Raquel and I sit next to him, directly across from Finnick.

"We will be in the Capitol tomorrow afternoon, so I suggest everyone gets a full night's sleep. When we arrive in the Capitol there will be cameras so look professional. No slouching, and Nikki, it wouldn't help to smile." Raquel lectures us. I roll my eyes, and Paul smirks at me.

"I don't think she's capable of being polite, Raquel." Finnick teases me. I drop my fork down on the plate with a loud clang.

"You know you really get on my nerves?" I tell him, glaring at him.

"Oh, I know. That's what makes it so worth it. You're funny when you're mad." He laughs, stuffing his face more.

"Great." I mutter, resuming eating. I'm glad my anger is amusing.

Once dinner is over, Paul and I get up from the table, and head to our rooms, but Finnick whistles, signaling for us to come back and sit down.

"What now?" Paul asks, placing his hands on the back of his chair, an annoyed expression on his gorgeous face.

"We need to go over appearances." Finnick tells us, gesturing for us to sit down.

"Can this wait until tomorrow?" Paul asks.

"I'm afraid it cannot." Finnick says, kicking the chair out, which is in front of me. I take a seat, and prop my face on my hand, fighting a yawn.

"Both of you have a role to play. You need to pick someone that the audience, and most importantly the sponsors will like. Paul, you give off sort of a bad boy feel, the audience could go for this, but it's a better idea if you make yourself seem sweeter, more charming." Finnick informs us, getting into the conversation and using his hands to talk.

"Okay, I can do that." He agrees, sitting back.

"Now Nikole-" He begins, but I cut him off.

"Nikki." I growl. He closes his eyes for a moment, and continues what he was saying.

"You have a bold attitude, and you're kind of snobby, so if you could just act the complete opposite of who you are we're good." He insults me. I am not snobby!

"I'm not going to pretend to be someone I'm not. And I am _not_ snobby." I argue. He rolls his eyes.

"See? This is why we wouldn't have had enough time tomorrow." Finnick tells Paul who laughs lightly. I glare at the both of them.

"If you two would stop entertaining yourselves at my expense, then I will gladly be the best damn actress you two have ever seen. You'll wonder who the real me is, got it?" I snap at them. They want me to play this game? Fine. I'll play, and I'll be the best at it.

"Deal." Finnick states, holding out his hand for me to shake. I place my hand in his, goosebumps traveling up my arm. He shakes firmly, and lets go. I can't help but feel as if he only insulted me so I would get angry, which would fuel my need to prove them wrong. Arrogant Jerk.


	5. Chapter 4 REVISED

**Chapter IV**

As the train stops in the Capitol, I am suddenly nervous. The crowds of colorful and bright people wave ecstatically, and clamor for any ounce of Finnick's attention-which they receive. It's quite nauseating, watching him blow kisses to them through the window.

"You ready?" Paul asks me, extending his hand for me to take. I stare at it, and then look up to him.

"Come on, they eat this stuff up. Remember what Finnick said, Ms. Actress." He says, knowing that will get me. I huff, placing my hand in his, and walking to the doors that open as soon as Raquel walks out.

The cheers intensify as Finnick steps out of the train, waving to the citizens of the Capitol. He really enjoys his fans, doesn't he? I can't help but think back to the black haired woman from the train and the undergarments in his bathroom.

We are escorted by Raquel and a peacekeeper, guiding us to the training center.

When we walk in, I spot a purple-themed woman with pale lilac dyed skin, bright purple hair cut in a short bob, and wearing black clothes with a white apron immediately. She's sort of hard to miss, the only colorful thing in the bleak, gray hallway.

I also see a man with Navy hair pulled back into a ponytail, and gold tattoos all around his eyes. He must be one of Paul's stylists, because the purple lady comes over to me.

"Hello, I'm Lavendaria, one of your stylists. If you would follow me through those doors, we can begin to get you ready." She says professionally, showing no emotion.

I don't realize I'm still holding Paul's hand until I start to move forward. He yanks me back, and smiles at me gently.

"Good luck." He tells me before letting go of my hand, and walking with his own stylist. Shaking my head, I follow Lavendaria into a concrete room, with metal tables and sinks. It looks like you could do surgery in here. I shudder at that thought. Many stylists have permanently altered themselves to correspond with the latest fashion trends.

"Before we get started on your face, I'm going to wash you up." She tells me, glancing back at me. When she does, I suddenly realize that her irises have been dyed a bright violet. If I walk out of here with bright orange eyes, we're going to have a problem.

After she scrubs my skin, waxes the hair off of my body, and plucks my eyebrows, I'm ready to be made up.

"We have talked to your Mentor, Finnick, and discussed the image you will portraying. You will be strong, confident, but sweet and innocent." She reminds me. I roll my eyes. The fact that I have to act to be someone else just so that people will sponsor me, and I might have a slight change of surviving is ridiculous to me.

"We're going to go for ocean goddess, is this okay with you?" She asks me, slathering lotions and serums on my face. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. I didn't really think I had a choice in this matter.

"Yeah, it's fine." I comment quietly. Although Lavendaria seems cold, and detached, she's different from all the other stylists I've seen.

After what seems like forever, I am transformed into an unrecognizable, gorgeous woman. My eyes are strikingly green, the rich color brought out by the dramatic purple eye makeup. My lashes are three times the size, and my lips are painted a soft pink. My cheekbones seem to reflect the light, and so does the bridge of my nose. She did an amazing job.

"Wow…" I breathe, standing up to look at myself closer. I never thought I could be this pretty. Although I'd feel more comfortable if there was less makeup on my eyes.

"Just beautiful, my dear." I hear a male voice say from behind me. I turn around and spot a tall, lean, man with dark green hair arranged in a strange fashion. He's dressed in a pressed, old-fashioned gold suit.

"I'm Quinton, your hair stylist. It's a pleasure to meet you." He says, grabbing my hand in both of his, and placing a small kiss on the back of it.

He pushes me back in the chair, immediately brushing it out. I feel very intimidated by him, even though he doesn't look it physically. His bold personality and lack of respect for personal space has me on edge.

"So, tell me about yourself." He smiles, beginning to section my long hair.

"Uh…There's not much to me." I say awkwardly under his heavy gaze.

"There has to be. Everyone has a story." He winks. I look down, thinking of the story I _could_ tell him.

"Well…It's just me and my dad back in Four. My mom left us after my twin sister died." I tell him, shifting in my seat uncomfortably. I've never told anyone about this, but I feel like I can open up to him. He's different.

"I'm very sorry for your loss." He says, pausing to pat my shoulder. His dark green eyebrows rise up in concern. He continues to work on my hair, now curling it.

"Don't be. It's been years." I smile weakly. He switches the topic to my social life, in hopes of creating a lighter atmosphere. Too bad for him, because I have no friends.

"Not even one?" He questions, completely shocked.

"Nope." I pop the 'p'. I could consider Paul a friend, but the more appropriate term would be 'acquaintances'.

"That's absolutely absurd. How could a beautiful, kind, and charming girl like you have no friends?" He says, pinning my hair to one side. After those words left his mouth, I couldn't stop myself from busting out laughing. Quinton stares at me through the mirror, eyes wide.

"I'm…sorry…it's just that if Finnick heard you say that…he would…oh man!" I say through fits of uncontrollable laughter. Earning a small smirk from Quinton, he shakes his head.

"Finnick doesn't like me. He says that I won't gain enough sponsors if I act like myself." I say quietly after my hysterical fit is over.

"Honey, you act like yourself. If they don't like you for who you are, then screw them. If you don't get even one sponsor, then you show them how tough and brave you are, and you win. Even without their help. You don't need them, they need you." He tells me, finishing up my hair. I stare at him, a soft smile gracing my face. I decide that Quinton isn't too bad. I really like him, and I'm glad I got stuck with him instead of some of the other loonies I could've gotten.

Quinton leads me to a small room in the corner. As soon as he pushes the door open, I am met with racks upon racks of glittery, flashy, and vibrantly colored clothes. I immediately become nervous. If my stylist dresses me up as a fruit basket, I'm going to have to kill someone.

"Silvarius is right through there." He whispers in my ear, before turning on his shiny black heel and walking away.

I hesitantly walk into the room, and weave through the clothes racks, making sure not to accidentally step on something.

"I'm over here!" A woman's voice calls from my left. I emerge from the fluorescent Narnia land I have seemed to wind up in, and spot a small, thin, and normal looking woman. Her silver hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail, her cold steel eyes analyzing a midnight blue shirt and skirt ensemble.

"Uh…hi." I squeak. Something about this woman screams intimidation. It could be the violent look she's been giving that outfit, or the way she stands straight, her arms crossed in front of her chest tightly.

"Hello. Here's your outfit, I'll help you put it on, it's quite tricky." She says quickly, getting right to business. Are all the woman around here emotionally detached or something?

After she assembles my outfit, I feel complete. I feel strangely confident. The top begins at my neck, and ends at the bottom of my ribs. The fabric seems to be a sheer navy blue material. It glimmers in the light. The skirt starts at my waist and flows all the way down to the floor in billowy, waves of dark silk.

"You look amazing. Just remember to make this outfit work. Keep your head held high, and don't let them see any signs of weakness." She tells me, finally looking into my eyes for the first time.

"Thank you, Silvarius. This outfit is absolutely gorgeous." I say, smiling warmly. Glancing at myself one last time in the mirror, I can finally say I feel beautiful.


	6. Chapter 5 REVISED

**A/N: Hello everyone! I hope you all like the story so far! I just want to thank everyone who's reviewed, it means a lot to me! To be honest, I like this version WAY better than the original. It has more depth, and it's just written better. Have a good day! Or night...or whenever you're reading this! ;)  
**

 **Chapter V**

Walking into the room full of future threats, is nothing short of terrifying. I stare down the pair from District One. The boy's arms are bigger than my head. If I thought Paul was strong, this guy is monstrous. His stylist dressed him in a barbaric type fashion, displaying his rippling muscles. The girl is strong as well. Her muscle definition isn't nearly as prominent as the girl from Two, but you can tell she can handle herself just fine.

My eyes wander from the hulk mutants and focus on the tributes from Seven. The boy and girl stand next to each other, looking away, and at opposite directions. They are both beautiful with their dark hair and bright blue eyes. They look strikingly similar, especially in their identical outfits of vines of colorful flowers.

Lastly, when I reach Paul and I's chariot, my eyes almost bug out of head. Paul is shirtless with a white cloth starting from his round shoulder, and falling diagonally, meeting his left hip, and wrapping around until it ends above his knee. His claves are restrained by golden gladiator sandals. Two small golden leaves are tucked behind his ears, his blonde hair tousled artfully.

His green eyes meet mine, and upon looking at my made-up appearance, his eyes widen.

"Wow, you look…different." He breathes. I look down, my cheeks warming. I don't know if he meant that as an insult or compliment, but his eyes analyzing my face make me feel uneasy.

"Alright, you two are to step up on your chariot, right as the anthem starts. You will travel down the aisle and stop in front of the President's podium. He will give a small speech, and then you will come back here." Raquel instructs us, in a navy blue jumpsuit and her platinum hair frizzed in tiny curls.

"Make sure you wave to the crowds. Be enthusiastic. Make them feel like it's _you_ begging for _their_ attention. Make them feel wanted." Finnick says, stepping out from behind Raquel. I take a deep breath, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

"It's okay, we got this." I hear Paul whisper to me. I look up at him, his eyebrows drawn up.

"Aren't you nervous at all? All those people you don't know looking at you?" I ask him, inching closer to the sleek, black chariot.

"It doesn't bother me. I doubt I'll ever see them again." He tells me, stepping into the chariot.

"What if you win?" I ask him, as he pulls me up next to him. I can hear the anthem starting in the background.

"I don't think I'll win. And that thought doesn't bother me." He explains. I shoot him a bewildered look. As the horses lurch forward, I'm knocked off balance. Paul's arm shoots out and wraps around my waist, saving me from falling face first into the waxed, gray linoleum.

"Thanks." I say shyly, embarrassed at how close we are together. Before I can move away, we're parading in front of the millions of people crowding the seats on the sides of the aisle. Paul keeps his arm locked around me, and begins waving happily to everyone. I look around and watch as the rainbow-colored citizens of the Capitol scream, and wail their arms all around.

I look up and see Paul and I on the screens. We look…surprisingly good together. I blush at that thought. He's my district partner…we're going to be enemies in the arena, only one person gets the crown. Those are the rules. We can't get too friendly.

"Come on, wave. I know this is absurd, but you should listen to Finnick. He's won this thing before, after all." Paul leans down and whispers in my ear. I'm suddenly reminded of my big 'act'. I smile wide and let out a small giggle, waving and blowing kisses to the audience. I catch a few people's gaze from the stands, and they just about faint. People are so dramatic…

When we come to a stop in front of the golden podium, my eyes land on the snake-like President Snow. His icy blue eyes rest on each of us for a few seconds, but when his sight falls on me, I shiver involuntarily. I wonder how someone could rally up children and force them to kill each other and televise it. When I look into those cold, and soulless eyes of his, I finally understand. He has no emotion, no heart. He doesn't even feel the slightest bit guilty.

When he opens his mouth to speak, my thoughts wander to the arena. What kind of horror have they cooked up for us this year? My imagination runs wild, and soon I'm picturing huge lizards with those same icy, heartless eyes as Snow devouring everyone.

Paul tightens his grip on me as the chariot shoots forward again. I completely blanked out for that whole speech? It was most likely just him spewing garbage anyways. I didn't miss much.

"Are you alright?" Paul asks me, helping me down.

"Yeah, never better. Why?" I question him with wide eyes.

"You seem…off. That's all." He comments, straightening up when Finnick strolls over to us.

"I have to say, I'm impressed. I actually almost believed you had a heart, Nikki." He comments jokingly. I don't find it funny.

"You're a jerk, you know that?" I hiss, stomping away towards the elevator. With a scowl on my face, I brush past Raquel, who gives me a disapproving glare.

I honestly don't know why I'm letting Finnick get to me. It was just a small comment. He probably didn't mean it, but still. I'm sick of his negativity towards me. He's always pouring his praise out on Paul. Between Paul and I, you can tell who Finnick favors. It's annoying. Does he even care if I live or die?

When I reach the fourth floor, I step out and sit down on a chair next to a floor lamp. I'll wait for the joyous bunch here. I don't exactly know which room is ours. I look down both ends of the hallway and see at least forty doors, all exactly identical.

I play with the sheer fabric of my skirt for ten minutes, patiently waiting for anyone to come up through the elevator. No one does. I sigh exasperatedly as I see Finnick and Paul finally step out.

"What took you guys so long?" I ask, annoyed.

" _We_ were just sucking up to a very generous sponsor. If you hadn't walked off, you could've too." Finnick informs me, pausing at the third door on the right.

"Just great." I mutter low enough so no one else hears.

After Finnick opens the door, I am met with a large living room that connects to a dining room, everything designed to the extent of absolute fanciness, Capitol-style. I guess I could get used to living here for a week.


	7. Chapter 6 REVISED

**Chapter VI**

Like last time on the train, I barge into a random room, and go straight to the bathroom. I open the door and am surprised when I see no feminine clothing hanging anywhere.

I stare at my reflection. Is this what it takes for me to finally feel beautiful? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I see a problem with that. I run the water and splash my face, scrubbing my skin with a white towel. When my face turns back to normal, the towel is smeared with beiges, blacks, and purples. Disgusted that _all_ of that was caked on my face, I discard the towel to the corner of the room.

I rummage through the drawers and find long, grey pants and a black muscle shirt. Quickly pulling them on, Raquel knocks on my door and peers from behind the dark wood.

"Can I come in, dear?" She asks me. I just nod my head, plopping down on the edge of the bed.

"I just want to say that I am very pleased with your performance. You just need to work on your attitude towards us…" She says. I sense there is more she wants to say so I wait, staring into her overly made-up eyes.

"I know this must all be new and scary for you, but you have to understand that we're just trying to help. We don't want to see you fail. We know how the system works, and according to what we know, we're trying to prepare you." Raquel tells me, smiling softly. My eyebrows shoot up. I didn't think she was capable of noticing anything other than appearances and what brand of shoe someone was wearing. I guess it's my turn to apologize. I have to admit, I have been rude.

"I'm sorry Raquel. Even though I don't show it, I appreciate what you're doing. Finnick on the other hand…" I trail off, rolling my eyes. She laughs lightly.

"He's a boy. He deals with things in his own way. Which is insensitively, and in a tough-love sort of way." She explains, motioning me to follow her. I hop up, and follow her out to the dining room where a feast is set out before us. My stomach rumbles with the delicious scent of tasty food.

I take my seat next to Paul, and in front of Finnick, both of whom are already digging in. I don't hesitate in grabbing a turkey leg, and scooping the fluffy bed of rice onto my plate. I also grab a small bowl of the clear, steaming broth.

"So…I've noticed you two aren't really the 'Career' type. Did your parents not train you?" Finnick asks. I stiffen up when he mentions our parents. My dad was supposed to train Sara and I to be 'Careers' but…we all know what happened. After Sara and my mom, my dad didn't care if I was reaped and couldn't defend myself. In his eyes, I was good as dead anyway. I remember all the other parents outside almost every day, teaching their kids to fight.

"My dad needed help with his warehouse. So I grew up learning how to store certain things, and move boxes." Paul says, looking at me expectantly.

"Uh...My dad is…uh…he's…" I stammer, under pressure. What am I going to say? _"My dad actually hates me and he verbally and physically abused me after my twin died. Also, he's an alcoholic."_ I don't think so.

"Well?..." Finnick gestures for me continue.

"My dad didn't train me because…he was busy with other things. And my mom left us when I was younger." I say quietly, pushing rice around my plate. I look up at Finnick, and can tell by his expression, he doesn't buy my story.

"Okay." He finally says, after studying my face. I let out a breath of relief, glad that for once he didn't push me. I feel Paul's hand clamp down on my wrist, his eyes wide as saucers.

"Nikki…" He whispers. I raise an eyebrow at his weird behavior.

"What?" I whisper back urgently.

"We need to talk after dinner." He responds lowly. I stare at him, trying to figure out what on earth just happened. I lost my appetite when Finnick brought up my dad. I push myself away from the table, wandering into my room.

Throwing myself upside down on my bed, I stare up at the bleak ceiling. I think about some strategies I could use for the arena. This should distract me from Paul's odd behavior.

If I can get my hands on some knives, I could have a chance at close combat. My days of cleaning fish and shellfish have provided me with some skills in the knife wielding department. I should've built up muscle, though. It's hard to do things for yourself when your life revolved around taking care of others.

My thoughts are interrupted when I hear a soft knock from my door. I look up and see Paul enter, closing the door behind him. He comes up to me, and lifts his arm. I cringe back, waiting for him to use his chance to take me out before the arena.

"I knew it." He mutters, sitting on the bed beside me. I scoot away, glaring at him.

"You knew what? I have reflexes?" I ask him sourly.

"No. You got that cut from your dad." He says. I don't say anything. He _knows._ But how?

"Was it me cringing when you lifted your arm, or when I froze up at dinner?" I ask, resting my head on my shoulders.

"All of it. When you lied to me about how you got your cut, how you were always self-conscious whenever I looked at it. How when people try to give you advice and help you, you get angry and distance yourself. And when you had to talk about your parents, I knew. The arm thing was just an accident, but it proved my theory even more." He tells me, leaning back on my pillows.

"I'm sorry." I apologize, my eyes dropping from his hard gaze.

"Why are you sorry?" He asks, surprised.

"I don't know, I just feel I should be." I say honestly. I feel like I'm in trouble, or I got caught.

"Nikki, whatever he did to you, it's not your fault. Don't ever think that. You have nothing, absolutely _nothing_ to apologize for." Paul tells me, sitting up, and leaning forward.

"You don't know what happened. You can't say it wasn't my fault." I whisper.

"I'm all ears. I won't say anything to anyone. You can trust me, you know." He explains, shrugging.

"I'm responsible for my sister's death." I say the words out loud, finally and honestly, it feels funny. With these words, there's no going back. I have already opened myself up to Paul. Like toothpaste squeezed from the tube, I can't take back my words. So, I tell Paul the story of the night Sara died.


End file.
